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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460822">It's Not Easy...</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusFlair/pseuds/LotusFlair'>LotusFlair</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Jon is Still the Archivist, Jon's Bad at Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral History Program, Relationship Advice, Scottish Safehouse Featured, academic setting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:40:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusFlair/pseuds/LotusFlair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon has been running a fairly successful oral history program at the Magnus Institute, but finds he's fallen for one of his assistants. In an effort to be a better person, he goes to their mutual friends and colleagues and overhears something that sends him reeling.</p><p>Jon knew he wasn't an easy person to like, but he didn't realize he wasn't lovable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>311</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's Not Easy...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he accepted the position at the Magnus Institute, Jon knew he was the youngest Head Archivist in it's nearly two hundred year history. His predecessor, Gertrude Robinson, had been in her mid thirties when she started, ending her reign in her late seventies. He'd met her during the interview process, though he'd always gotten the impression she didn't like him all that much. Though, according to some of the people in admin, she wasn't the warmest person regardless of how likable you believed yourself to be. He'd still tried to make a good impression, presenting his plan to implement an Oral History Program as well as an overhaul of the filing system with plans for partial digitization of the archives' collections within two years. The only one who seemed impressed or swayed by his convictions and pie charts was the head of the institute, Elias Bouchard.</p><p>He got the job and, two weeks after Gertrude, reluctantly, stepped away from her position, Jonathan Sims became Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute at the age of 28. He felt the pressure and the eyes of academia on him almost immediately. He'd been ambitious in his plans and he was determined to deliver on them no matter what. He'd selected a number of assistants from different departments, hoping for a fresh start with a multitude of skill sets helping to make sense of Gertrude's unintelligible collection policy and filing systems. He put Sasha and Tim to work photographing, describing, and cataloguing all of Artifact Storage, Melanie and Basira were assigned to recording, documenting, and digitizing previously written statements, and Martin was in charge of followup and additional research as well as cross-referencing materials within the Institute's library. Jon made sure to give himself the hardest job of all, direct from subject statements.</p><p>He'd been prepared to take on the primary role from the beginning. Most people scoffed at the Institute's mission statement of collecting stories of the esoteric and supernatural, but that didn't make the experiences any less real to the people who showed up on their steps looking for an empathetic ear. Jon was determined to give those people their space despite his own misgivings about the subject. A lifelong skeptic, he was still fascinated by shared stories and the communities built around them. Still, he didn't want to put the burden of pain and emotional baggage on his assistants. He preferred to take it on himself, though he was not without his moments of frustration and lashing out on days when he had too many interviews in a row. Unfortunately, Martin ended up bearing the brunt of those episodes more than Jon would've liked.</p><p>He knew he wasn't an easy person to like and he wasn't making it any easier when most of his directions were stilted and tacit as he tried to appear older than his youth would allow. He'd been clean-shaven with short, cropped hair when he started, but nearly two years in and he was sporting a well trimmed van dyke beard and much longer, greying hair. He arrived earlier than everyone, sometimes getting in before the janitors, and stayed later than everyone, wishing the janitors a good night as they left before him. He made sure to see as many live statement givers as possible while also giving himself time to transcribe the interviews and create records in the database Sasha built. In between statements and followup and research he sometimes ate lunch, if he remembered. Despite the repeated abuse of the first year, Martin continued to bring him tea throughout the day, though Jon had softened considerably towards him in the last six months.</p><p>He'd softened quite a lot, actually; enough for him to understand that the thudding in his chest that occurred in anticipation of Martin bringing him tea and the heat that colored his cheeks when Martin smiled at him weren't signs of them being good friends anymore. It meant Jon had fallen in love. It was as exhilarating as it was frustrating as it was mortifying. Jon knew he'd been awful to Martin in their first year working together, for which he'd apologized profusely during the Institute's holiday party after Georgie plied him with one too many glasses of prosecco. Martin was quick to forgive and their friendship had blossomed from there, but the guilt of that first year still weighed heavily on Jon's conscience. He knew he wasn't an easy person to like, so he'd gone about trying to make amends, though he wasn't quite sure how to accomplish that goal. Short on ideas, he turned to his...friends?...colleagues for advice.</p><p>He regretted the approach soon enough.</p><p>Tim told him: "Be more outgoing, boss. You lock yourself away and we barely see you. You don't even join us for drinks! How else are we supposed to get to know you if you won't get black out drunk with us on occasion?"</p><p>Sasha told him: "You need to be friendlier. You always have this sour expression on your face, like you'd prefer we never talk to you about anything. Listening, and actually caring about what a person talks about, goes a long way, Jon."</p><p>Basira told him: "Help out in the bullpen from time to time. Your live statements project is great, but working with us instead of separate from us shows we're part of a team."</p><p>Melanie told him: "Stop being a bastard all the time."</p><p>Georgie told him: "Be yourself."</p><p>It was all very confusing, trying to balance being available to both his staff and the people coming to the Institute to tell their stories. Some days were so bad he wanted to cry for all of the trauma he listened to only to look out into the bullpen and conceal those feelings from the others. But in hiding his designated downer personality, it made it harder to smile against the backdrop of a pub playing their music a bit too loud while Tim yelled over him at Sasha about something he could care less about while the story of a lonely woman roaming a graveyard haunted his thoughts. He'd come close to a panic attack several times during those outings, one or two times in the bullpen after he and Melanie got into a heated argument about the academic merits of YouTube shows and ghost hunter based media.</p><p>He tried to play it off as nothing, just a dramatic overreaction, and apologize for his behavior, which seemed to mollify the others, though Basira appeared indifferent to most of the office drama. She was content to sit back and observe and Jon was glad to at least have one of his staff not actively judging him. The only silver lining to his efforts was the additional time he spent with Martin. He felt calmer when it was just the two of them, especially in the early morning when they'd share a cup of tea and a pastry in Jon's office. It was a ritual that happened organically, as far as Jon knew. Martin mentioned a nearby bakery he loved, offered to bring something for Jon along with his beverage of choice, and the two began to spend that brief, but peaceful, period together before the remaining staff arrived.</p><p>It was primarily through these breakfast meetings that Jon learned more about Martin as a person. He learned about his mother's illness and his struggles with reconnecting with his father. He learned about Martin's tea enthusiast habit and the virtual classes he was taking with an eye towards maybe opening a shop at some point. He learned about Martin's love of poetry and his regular appearances at open mics around London. For a man who tried to downplay his hobbies as simple frivolities, Jon was impressed with what he'd accomplished thus far. Jon was less inclined to share as much, believing his life and personality to be too grim and posh for someone like Martin to want to hear about. He let some things slip through: being raised by his grandmother, a burgeoning love of old cinema, specifically the films of Neil Lagorio, and his love of history in general. The more he opened up to Martin, the better he felt about revealing more and more of himself, though there was still that nagging fear in the back of his mind that the bubble would burst eventually.</p><p>Jon knew he wasn't an easy person to like, but he hoped, more than anything else, that Martin liked him. Maybe, with time, Martin might love him as well. It was a pipe dream, at best, but Jon was content to wait. Martin was the type of person worth waiting for.</p><p>It got to a point where he felt so relaxed and trusting of Martin that he introduced him to his friend he regularly met with on his cigarette breaks.</p><p>"Have you named her yet?" Martin asked as Jon set the plate of tuna on the ground next to the ginger cat. They were in the alley outside the Institute, the cat sitting on the trash bin in anticipation of Jon's arrival. She'd been frequenting the alley for as long as Jon could remember and he'd, against his better judgement, indulged in bringing her treats and food while he took a break away from everything and everyone. Between the cigarette and the occasional pet she'd allow from him he managed to get through another day of work. Before his morning breakfasts with Martin, these breaks were what he looked forward to the most.</p><p>"It never occurred to me to name her," Jon said, shrugging. "It's not like I own her. She comes and goes as she pleases."</p><p>"Feels odd, though," Martin said. "Like I'm meeting your parents and they're judging me."</p><p>Jon laughed nervously, unsure of how to take Martin's phrasing.</p><p>"She-she doesn't take to people easy, as far as I know," he said. "But once she warms up to you--"</p><p>The ginger cat was suddenly rubbing against Jon's leg, an insistent meow springing forth. He gave her head a pat and scritched along her cheeks and neck. She melted into his touch, flopping on to the pavement over his feet, which caused Martin to give out a pleasant laugh that sent Jon's heart soaring. Martin squatted near her, putting his hand out for her to sniff. She did so, tentatively, before rubbing her cheek against his hand.</p><p>"Guess she likes me," Martin said. Done with socializing for the day, the cat scampered off, but Jon barely noticed as he looked into Martin's warm, comforting eyes.</p><p>"Yes. I guess she does."</p><p>***</p><p>The breaking of Jonathan Sims was two-fold.</p><p>First, there was the Conversation. Jon had a rare half hour break between statements and a mug in need of washing before the next round of tea was distributed. Deciding to help Martin out, he headed for the break room. He was just about to enter when he heard them.</p><p>"So, Martin and Jon, then?" Basira asked in her matter-of-fact, slightly terse way.</p><p>"What about them?" Melanie responded in her typical tone hovering between anger and annoyance.</p><p>"They've been hanging out a lot. Think anything's happened?"</p><p>"I'm sure I don't care," Melanie said, flipping the page in whatever magazine she was reading.</p><p>"Really?" Basira asked. "They've been making moon eyes at each other for almost a year and you're not remotely invested? Not even a little bit intrigued?"</p><p>Melanie scoffed. "None of my business what terrible life choices Martin makes regarding partners."</p><p>Jon felt his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. He wasn't one for eavesdropping or idle gossip, but he couldn't make himself move forwards or backwards from the conversation. He was firmly planted outside the door, eager and terrified of the speculations and conclusions being made.</p><p>"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?"</p><p>"Is it? Really, Basira? You think Jon's a good choice for Martin? Jon Sims? The man who couldn't relax if you gave him a spreadsheet to keep track of his progress?" Melanie said, incredulously.</p><p>Basira sighed, loudly. "Just because you two don't get on--"</p><p>"It's not that," Melanie said. She paused for a moment. "They're just so...opposite of one another."</p><p>"I assume you've seen a romantic comedy at some point?"</p><p>"And I assume you know how the real world works." Another pause from Melanie. "Look, Martin's soft and gentle and positive. He's poetry and art. He's lovable. And Jon's...the opposite of all that. How does that ever work out?"</p><p>Jon didn't hear Basira's response. He couldn't hear much of anything beyond the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears. Of course Melanie would think that of him. Of course she'd see him for all of his sharp angles and call him a knife as she stabbed him in the back and front with her observations. The others were always quick to try and make Jon feel better about himself, to a degree, but Melanie's bluntness was a more reliable barometer. He could appreciate the biting honesty, but it didn't make it hurt any less.</p><p>She was right. She was right about all of it, but he hadn't expected the wound to feel so open and raw.</p><p>Jon knew he wasn't an easy person to like.</p><p>He didn't realize he was unlovable as well.</p><p>"Jon? Hey, Jon, you okay?"</p><p>His panicked eyes looked up into Martin's and he could just barely hear the shocked gasps of Melanie and Basira inside the break room over the sound of crashing waves in his ears. The heat of shame rose around his neck as he pulled his tie loose for air. The room felt small, like the walls were closing in and he rushed off without saying a word. Even as Martin called out to him, as he quickened his step out the door, he couldn't shake the throbbing ache in his heart that told him he was an idiot for thinking someone like Martin could ever love someone like him.</p><p>The second step was the Abandonment.</p><p>Jon managed to hold out another week of avoiding everyone at work before the pressure and the stress crushed him, though it wasn't any one person or situation in the archives that set him off. No, the party responsible for breaking what remained of Jon's heart was a ginger cat who hadn't shown up for the last five days during his normal break schedule. He tried to justify the long stretch of her absence. She was an alley cat; there was never any guarantee that she'd always appear even when he wanted the company. He'd been content to leave food out for her before, expecting it to be eaten as a sign that she was still around, but even the food was untouched when he checked the next day. There was also the matter of statistics. She might have been killed by any number of hazards around London. He didn't know her stomping grounds. He'd never bothered to know anything about her beyond the few moments spent together outside the institute.</p><p>There was always the possibility that she didn't want to see him anymore. Cats are fickle creatures, this he knew, and it was just as likely that the ginger cat had decided she didn't care for Jon's company as much as the likelihood of a car harming the poor creature.</p><p>He felt water splash on his hands. Looking up into the clear, blue sky he understood that he'd started crying. He didn't want to go back into the archives. He didn't want to face the scrutiny of his staff or the pitying looks that reinforced the already low opinion most of them had of him. He just wanted to disappear.</p><p>So he did.</p><p>***</p><p>On Monday, the archives staff received notice that Jon had called in sick and would likely be out the rest of the week. Sasha was instructed to execute Jon's directions should he call in for any reason, but they were to otherwise carry on as usual.</p><p>The following week, they received notice that Jon was going on extended sick leave for another two weeks. They were still to proceed as normal.</p><p>After those two weeks, Elias Bouchard informed them that Jon was now on mandatory holiday to use up the time he'd accrued in almost two years of employment. He wouldn't be returning until the end of the year, which left the staff with another two months without Jon at the helm of his oral history program as they scrambled to schedule time for statements on top of their regular duties. It was around the same time that Georgie came into the institute asking for any news on Jon.</p><p>"I haven't seen him for weeks," she said, cradling the steaming cup of tea between her hands for warmth. "He hasn't returned any of my calls. I went to his flat, but he never answered and his bloody landlord wouldn't open the door for me."</p><p>"I've tried calling him as well," Martin said, his face open and sympathetic. "No answer."</p><p>"I think he emailed me twice to fill me in on what I should do while he's out," Sasha said. "I tried to get him to answer some followups, but he hasn't responded. He won't even tell me if he's okay or where he is."</p><p>"He sent one of the graduate students my way," Tim said, pulling the email up on his phone. "Callum Brodie. Apparently, Jon was helping him with his dissertation and he said I was the best one to help in his absence. I didn't even know he was tutoring or mentoring or whatever! How the hell did he have the time?"</p><p>"He made it," Georgie said. "He was so afraid of dropping the ball with this program, with the whole archives. Nearly had a panic attack the last time I saw him. I just - I don't understand what happened. I was hoping one of you might know since he's here more than he's anywhere else."</p><p>They all looked at each other with growing levels of concern and guilt.</p><p>"Jon...kept to himself a lot," Sasha started. "He wasn't really open about anything."</p><p>Georgie stared at her, unfazed. "Did you ever ask him? How he was dealing with this program? How - how the statements gave him nightmares sometimes? How the director of the institute was pressuring him to produce twice what he'd promised in his initial proposal?"</p><p>"What?" Martin said.</p><p>"There's no way that's humanly possible," Tim said. "Even that two-year projection was too ambitious."</p><p>"That's why he was pushing himself so hard," Basira said, shaking her head in concern.</p><p>"He could've let us know," Melanie said. "We could've helped."</p><p>"When has Jon ever asked for help?" Martin said. It was now his turn to be on the outside of the guilty faces of his co-workers and friends. "What? What am I missing?"</p><p>"He - uh - he asked us if we'd help him make amends with you," Sasha said. "Mostly he wanted you to like him."</p><p>Martin laughed nervously. "Why - why would he want me to-to like him? I mean, I already like him. He must've known that!"</p><p>"Sure, but there was probably more to it, mate," Tim said. "Jon - well - he was pretty much in love with you."</p><p>"Tim!" Sasha admonished.</p><p>"What? He deserves to know what's been going on!" Tim countered. "He was head over heels for you, Martin! He asked our advice to make himself more appealing or likeable. Ya know, rom-com stuff!"</p><p>"Is that why he was going out with us more?" Martin asked. The others nodded. "And-and the breakfasts? Did one of you--?"</p><p>"Think you two came to that one on your own," Basira said.</p><p>"Then why...why would he leave if...?" Martin trailed off as he tried to put the puzzle together. The last time he'd properly seen Jon was outside the break room. He'd looked scared, panicked and he'd rushed off without a word. When Martin entered the room it was to the reddening faces of Basira and Melanie. He turned to them, locking eyes that gave them no room to look away. "What were you two talking about? The day I found him outside the break room? He looked terrified."</p><p>"Nothing," Melanie said. "We were just...speculating, ya know?"</p><p>"About what?" Martin asked, his words short and clipped with tension.</p><p>"About the two of you," Basira said. "How compatible you were-are."</p><p>Martin waited for them to continue. Even though Melanie was a fairly stoic person when she wanted to be, she seemed to squirm under Martin's and Georgie's stares.</p><p>"I might've - I might've implied that that you were too opposite," Melanie said. "Something like, soft vs sharp, gentle vs harsh. Loveable vs--"</p><p>Melanie cut herself off as she realized when Jon was likely eavesdropping.</p><p>"You don't think he'd...?" Basira asked.</p><p>Georgie sighed. "It's Jon. Of course he would."</p><p>Martin pushed away from the table, standing with an unreadable expression on his face.</p><p>"I'm going to get some air," he said.</p><p>No one followed him out into the alley and he was glad for it. He could feel the anger - anger at his colleagues, anger at Elias and the institute, anger at Jon - bubbling to the surface. All he wanted to do was punch a wall, but he knew that would do nothing to fix the situation. He did manager to kick the garbage bin and yell out his frustration just as an ambulance drove by, drowning his cries in the hubbub of the city.</p><p>He loved Jon. He could admit that to himself; had been in love with him for a while and now it was all but confirmed that those feelings were returned. At least, he hoped they were. It didn't bode well that the man he was in love with had disappeared believing he was unlovable in comparison. Now it was a matter of finding Jon and setting the record straight. He just didn't know where to start.</p><p>A soft <em>mrrow</em> snapped him out of his thoughts. The ginger cat stared at him, sizing him up as to whether he was friend or foe. She decided quickly and approached, sitting daintily in front of him as if expecting something in return for her arrival. As he'd done the first time he met her, Martin put his hand out, which she sniffed and ruffed up against.</p><p>"Sorry, I don't have any food for you," he said, eyes watering at yet another example of Jon's softness and generosity staring him in the face. "But don't you worry, I'll get you something. Promise. And I'll bring him back. Double promise."</p><p>***</p><p>Daisy Tonner, Basira's partner, showed up three days later and asked to see Martin. Privately.</p><p>"Jon's in Scotland," she said without preamble.</p><p>"What?! H-How? When?"</p><p>"He came by a month ago, while Basira was at work, and asked about renting the place," Daisy said. "It's a family home passed down through the generations--"</p><p>"Aren't you Welsh?"</p><p>"Not the point, Martin," she said, pointedly. "He's been there ever since."</p><p>Martin took a deep breath. "Okay, why didn't you tell us sooner?"</p><p>"I didn't know there was a problem," Daisy said. "Seemed like he just needed an extended holiday. Didn't realize he'd buggered off without telling anyone else. But it's also not my business to tattle on someone who doesn't want to be found."</p><p>"So why are you telling me now?"</p><p>"Basira...she came home stressed and freaking out about where Jon was," she said. "She thinks she's partially at fault for why he left and I'd rather at least one of you know so you can talk to him or retrieve his skinny ass."</p><p>She took out a piece of folded up paper and handed it to Martin.</p><p>"That's the address and some recommended train schedules to follow if you want to get there in a timely manner," she said.</p><p>Martin nodded.</p><p>"Thanks, Daisy."</p><p>She nodded. "No worries. Just...bring him home. If you can."</p><p>Martin took another deep breath and looked over the train schedule, deciding then and there when he was leaving.</p><p>He was going to Scotland and he was going to bring Jon back with him.</p><p>***</p><p>Jon's body was screaming for him to get up and out of bed, but he lacked the energy to do so. If not for his need to use the toilet, he'd have been content to sleep the day away again. He'd been functioning, for the most part, over the last month on his own but there were a stretch of days where he lacked the willpower to even push the duvet off without extreme effort. The bright sunlight pouring in through the window slats added another level of annoyance and Jon found himself finally sitting up in bed, pushing back his bedraggled hair as he padded along the cold hardwood floor to the kitchen.</p><p>He set the kettle on and had just enough time to use the toilet before it began to whistle. He wasn't looking forward to his breakfast tea. It was never as good as what Martin made, which further soured his mood as he tried to banish such thoughts from his mind. He had to get used to being alone, to being without the comfort of Martin's affection and attention. Mornings were the worst. Mornings reminded him of their breakfasts together and so he rushed through the meal as quickly as possible. The rest of the day and the evenings were easier to get through with work to catch up on and the stack of books he'd been meaning to read. There were still nightmares, though, but he couldn't bring himself to call Georgie. He wasn't ready for her to know where he was just yet.</p><p>Part of him was surprised no one had found out. Another part of him had his suspicions confirmed.</p><p>When breakfast was concluded, he stared at his laptop and the mess of papers cluttering the coffee table, sighing forlornly. He didn't feel like logging in today. Not that he had to, but it was easier to get lost in the work. Normally, he welcomed the distraction, but it didn't seem worth it at the moment. Better to wander the Scottish countryside for several hours, maybe go to the village for supplies and a pint. The barkeep seemed to like him well enough, though he couldn't be sure if it was because she genuinely liked him or just wanted his money. He could ransack the bookseller's bargain bin for anything that looked interesting.</p><p>Most of the villagers paid him no mind; he was just another Englishman using their home as a tourist destination. As his stay continued, he noticed them asking more personal questions, getting to know him since he didn't appear to be going anywhere anytime soon. It was nice to enter the shop and speak with Maggie and Alfred for a few minutes and sample cheese from the local farm while complaining about milk prices. The cafe attached to the book store was an excellent spot for people watching and many of the residents became used to the shy, young-ish Englishman nodding or waving his hellos and goodbyes. Just the other day, the bookseller handed him a flyer for a monthly book club meeting.</p><p>"In case you're still around," he'd said with a wink so obvious Jon would have to have been in a coma not to notice. Said flyer sat on the kitchen counter glaring at him in neon pink. Maybe he could go? Maybe this was how he started over. But what if he started talking, started revealing more of himself, and they came to the same conclusions as his colleagues in London? What if he was just destined to be some village's hermit so miserable and loathsome not even the strays could find anything worth loving?</p><p>He sighed heavily, sinking into the couch, wishing it would swallow him whole. He didn't hear the car pulling up or the door closing. He was too lost in his own mind, his thoughts spiraling down the same fears and anxieties. It was the heavy knock on the door that shocked him to attention. Confused by the morning visitor, he took his time and cautiously opened the door.</p><p>There stood a very tired looking, but relieved Martin Blackwood.</p><p>"Martin? What - what are you--?"</p><p>He was swept up in a hug before he could finish the question.</p><p>***</p><p>Jon sat on the couch, waiting for Martin to return from the kitchen. He'd insisted on making proper tea after tasting the over-steeped mess Jon had initially offered. He didn't have the emotional bandwidth to be offended when he was staring at the man he loved. The same man who'd followed him to Scotland. The same man who was making tea in the kitchen. The same man who was beautiful and lovely and everything Jon wasn't according to the others.</p><p>He knew this day was inevitable, but he wasn't sure how to tell Martin that he wasn't worth the pursuit.</p><p>"Here we go," Martin said as he entered the living room. Moving the laptop and papers aside, Martin gently placed the mugs on the coffee table. Jon's was a welcoming amber color while Martin's was a milky tan by comparison. Jon never liked to doctor his drinks too much while Martin liked to experiment with milk and sugar like an old fashioned alchemist. Yet another point of opposition that only reinforced how different they were, which did little to boost Jon's compatibility hopes.</p><p>They sat in silence, drinking their tea, trying and failing to sneak a glance at the other.</p><p>"So, what-what're you working on," Martin  finally asked, gesturing to the papers and notebooks on the table.</p><p>"Oh, Elias wants a comparative report for the oral history program versus my initial projections," Jon said. "I'd been meaning to get to it and now I...have the time, I suppose."</p><p>"Georgie said you were being pressured to produce twice as much," Martin said.</p><p>"What? Georgie? When did she--?"</p><p>"She came looking for you, Jon," Martin said. "She hadn't seen or heard from you in weeks. She was worried and came to the archives. We talked."</p><p>Jon sighed, "I should call her."</p><p>"Yes, you should," Martin agreed. "You should also come home so the others can properly apologize."</p><p>"Apologize? For what?" Jon asked. Martin nearly spit out his tea at the bafflement in Jon's voice.</p><p>"Seriously?" Martin asked. "Jon, you asked for their help and they made you feel like shit. You literally ran away from home because you thought you were disliked and unlovable!"</p><p>The silence lingered again as Jon processed Martin's words.</p><p>"But they're not wrong," he said, quietly. "I've always had a hard time with people. I don't - I've never understood how it works and I struggle to connect in ways that are satisfying to others. I don't find after work drinks in a pub pleasurable. It's loud and I can't think, but everyone else is having a good time. I know I bring down the mood when I'm in the bullpen because I can't stop thinking about what I've done, am doing, or will be doing involving statement givers. It fills up my days and my nights and sometimes it's hard for me to separate the personal from the professional."</p><p>Martin set his mug down. Jon mirrored his actions, watching as Martin gingerly reached out for his hand.</p><p>"What you're just described," Martin said, warmly, "is a workaholic with social anxiety. I'm sorry, Jon, but your not unique to this situation."</p><p>"I was awful to you - and the others - for a whole year, Martin," Jon started.</p><p>"And you've spent the last year making up for it three times over," Martin said. "It's - it's been a right mess without you in the archives and we - I - need you there."</p><p>"Nobody needs me, Martin," Jon scoffed. "Sasha has everything covered and I'm sure she'll be a much more acceptable leader for you all."</p><p>"Jon, I -- wait, what? What do you mean about Sasha?" Martin asked. Jon started to pull his hand away, but Martin held it firm. He knew Jon's default was to hide and he wasn't about to let that happen now. Not when they were so close.</p><p>"I'm-I'm sorry. I thought Elias already told you," Jon said. Martin looked at the papers scattered around the table. Some of them were tallies of digitized statements, artifacts, and interviews. The rest were drafts of letters and resumes, one of which he could just make out in Jon's flowing cursive was a letter of resignation.</p><p>"You're quitting?" Martin asked in a husky whisper.</p><p>Jon nodded. "End of the year. It's-it's not fair to the rest of you to deal with my...shortcomings," Jon said. "Sasha's more than capable of keeping the program running and, to be honest, I've been a bit burnt out as of late."</p><p>Martin stayed quiet, closing his eyes as he tried to keep his emotions in check. From Jon's perspective, he appeared to be losing the battle.</p><p>"Were you even going to tell us?" Martin asked, the question measured and level despite the simmering tension in his jaw and eyes. "Or were you just going to stay here until you decided to leave without telling Daisy? Runaway again?"</p><p>Jon looked away, shamed by the accuracy of Martin's questions. He heard the loud sigh and felt the couch dip as Martin moved closer, not further away like he'd expected. He felt warm fingers on his chin as Martin guided him back, face to face once again.</p><p>"I want to make myself very clear, Jon," he said. "You're not some worthless witch of a boss the staff has been trying to rid ourselves of. You created a program, a successful one, and you pushed yourself too hard in every direction possible. You're not a monster, you're not a robot, you're a human being and human beings are prone to burn out and emotional outbursts and even being a dick every so often."</p><p>"I--"</p><p>"That doesn't mean you're unlovable...or that you're unloved," Martin said.</p><p>Jon felt himself freeze, a short gasp escaping at the raw vulnerability in Martin's eyes. Martin sighed again when the silence settled in again.</p><p>"Just in case you need it spelled out," he said with a wry grin, "I love you, Jon. Have done for some time."</p><p>"I-I...<em>why</em>?" Jon asked.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>There was a hint of anger in Jon's face as he stood, pulling free of Martin's grasp.</p><p>"What could you possibly love about me? I'm - I'm arrogant, belligerent, rude, demanding, hypocritical, I didn't even know how you take your tea, for Christ's sake! I'm petty at the best of times and an absolute bastard at the worst! I have nothing to offer you, Martin. Nothing except a cold, broken man who couldn't even get a stray cat to like him enough to stick around!"</p><p>Martin was familiar with this spiral because he's experienced it so many times in his own mental tear downs. Jon's arms had wrapped around his own stomach, as if cradling himself for comfort. There were unshed tears in his eyes ready to spill over at any second. The man was a mess, staring at Martin with eyes pleading for something to make sense.</p><p>He didn't think it was possible to love Jon more and yet...</p><p>Martin reached out again, calmly prying one of Jon's hands away as he tugged him back to the couch. He moved in closer, making sure Jon was comfortable with the closeness before wrapping him up in the strongest hug he could muster. Jon was stiff, at first, but gradually melted into the hug, his arms slung around Martin's neck as he buried his face in Martin's shoulder. The hiccuping sobs came next and Martin felt his own tears prickling at the sound of a man in need of love so badly he couldn't trust it when it was staring him right in the face.</p><p>When sobs finally stopped, Martin pulled back just enough to keep looking at Jon.</p><p>"I'm begging you, Jon, please listen to me, okay?" he asked as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek. Jon nodded. "You might be all of those things - sometimes - but you're also capable of extremely kind gestures you won't even allow yourself to see. You've given people an outlet to tell their stories and you sit with them, listen to them, and give them closure. Georgie told us about the nightmares, too. Not everyone has or displays that kind of empathy. You've been tutoring graduate students in need of guidance. You've taken it upon yourself to give love and attention to an alley cat where others would've dismissed her outright. You carry so much on your shoulders, but you wouldn't think of passing any of that weight on to anyone else. You are all of these things, and more, and that's only one of the many reasons why I love you."</p><p>They were both crying, full on blotchy faces and stuffed noses. Jon reached over to a side table, bringing a box of tissues over for them to use. When they were as cleaned up as they could, Jon found himself nestled into Martin's side, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was the happiest he'd felt in weeks, maybe months. Then, he realized something. Sitting up, he looked into Martin's somewhat confused gaze, and kissed him.</p><p>It was a short affair, hardly worth describing, but there was warmth and love and a promise of something more in the brief moment their lips met.</p><p>"I...I love you, too," Jon said as he pulled back a bit. "Just to be explicitly clear."</p><p>Martin chuckled. "Yes, I think you've been very clear. Does that - does that mean you'll come home with me? Will you stay at the archives?"</p><p>"Well, I'm technically on holiday until January," Jon said. He looked over at the duffel bag Martin shunted into the corner when he arrived. "How long did you pack for?"</p><p>"A few days," Martin said. "I wasn't sure how long it'd take to convince you."</p><p>"Hmmm. Well, why don't we figure it out in a few days? I'll show you around the village, we'll take walks through the countryside..."</p><p>Martin blushed. "First kiss, then first holiday, and first date all in one go? What's that song about fools rushing in?"</p><p>Jon shrugged. "I can't help it. You're so easy to love."</p><p>Their second kiss was much longer, though subsequent kisses were as short or as long as they needed to be.</p><p>***</p><p>Returning to the institute and London wasn't as difficult as he'd thought. Jon let Elias know of his intentions to remain the Head Archivist and turned in his comparative analysis for the board of trustees to review. Then he made his demands known. There would be more funding, raises for the staff, and a smaller scope of work over the next two years to accommodate an easier work load. Jon wanted to be as present for his staff as he was for the patrons, users, and statement givers.</p><p>Reconnecting with the staff was worrisome, but there was enough guilt on both sides that reconciliation was much easier once those initial apologies and flash paper arguments were out of the way. There was also a bottle of whiskey involved, but that was besides the point. Jon was effusively apologetic to Georgie more than anyone, but she quickly hugged him while whispering "Prick" under her breath before pulling him and Martin into her flat for dinner and many, many drinks.</p><p>As far as their routines went, Jon and Martin continued to have their breakfasts together, though most evenings found one of them at the other's flat. Things were moving fast, but compared to how slow they'd been in the past it felt like they'd finally reached a happy medium once a rhythm was established. They went to poetry slams and film festivals together, enjoying the interests of the other and finding genuine moments of fun and relaxation. They didn't go to as many after work pub nights, but the others didn't seem to mind or take offense.</p><p>Jon still tried to hide the nightmares, but Martin made sure he was never without comfort when they shocked him awake at two in the morning. In return, Jon comforted Martin through the passing of his mother and the ensuing family drama. Their support for each other was unwavering and it wasn't long before two flats became one and Martin's pie in the sky dreams of a tea shop were inching closer to reality.</p><p>When they finally managed to get hold of her, they adopted the alley cat and named her Madame Gingersnap.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had an idea and it became this thing. Hope you enjoyed it! You can also find me on twitter @darling_sammy or check out my website, POP Archives at www.pop-archives.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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